Under Lock And Key

• Alan Tran, Grade 11
• Short Story
• 2008

Under Lock and Key

For our first anniversary I bought her a necklace. It was a key on a simple silver chain but she wore it everyday as a reminder to all that only she had the key to ‘unlock’ him - that ‘him’ was me. The key, though a simple trinket, held greater significance as it was the perfect fit for the lock I wore around my neck. I got the idea from a book that she had been reading.

I still remember her joy and contentment as she wrapped her arms around my waist. Everything felt so right – nothing could possibly mar this joy. Right here, right now, there was nothing that could have made the moment more special – except maybe the kiss that she let linger on my lips.

Those memories - the beautiful, unforgettable ones I hold dear to my heart and it is these memories that were ‘locked in’ by the key that she wore around her neck. All other more unpleasant memories such as the fighting, the tears and the recriminations I’ve tried to forget. But, every time I see her walking, talking, smiling, I am constantly reminded of the sad fact that I am no longer beside her. Yet, I cannot find it in me to let her go.

If love were a switch then life would be much easier, so much simpler. I could turn the love I had for her off and would no longer pine for her or think about her on those ever so frequent sleepless nights. Part of me hates her and I only wish that soon enough I would be able to completely erase all feelings of love for her from my life. At this moment however, this seems a very remote possibility.

As I lie in bed and the complete darkness soothes me, I try to ignore everything else and just reflect. Everything was perfect once upon a time. I would walk her to class and she would make me lunch. I love her. She was beautiful and as a teenager I would often climb the tree outside her bedroom window just to see her. She was always angry when I did that but she sat with me, her head on my shoulder as we looked out the window at the blanket of stars above.

When we broke up I was too proud to beg her to reconsider. She cried as she told me she was tired of my possessiveness. I couldn’t believe it. She didn’t understand. I had given her the key and the lock was with me. She owned my heart. How could I be possessive of her? It didn’t make sense. Yet, on a deeper level, I knew it did.

When she handed back the necklace her words completely shook me more than her actions. “The day you gave me this commenced the countdown to the end of us,” she said.

The lock and key have lost their meaning now; my heart is bruised and incomplete.


Alan Tran
Year 11
Canley Vale High School